


Deadfall (The Forever and Ever Extended Remix)

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bonding Spells, M/M, Schmoop, bait!draco, dark themes, happy endings I swear, misuse of muggle medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Draco is the bait in a dangerous endgame.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I wrote one random scene and claimed I was going to stop because I'd already written a similar scenario that ended well, and said that I couldn't bear to write it otherwise. Being a damn stubborn Gryffindor, I hate saying I can't do something, and therefore decided to give it a try, and slay my next cliché-slaying assignment in the process. One line gacked directly from knitmeapony, who is clearly brilliant, and responsible for the all-important reality check beta, but the rest is entirely my fault.

###  
  
"Explain this again," Harry growled, the lamp at his elbow flickering dangerously.  
  
Ron sighed and pointed at Draco. "He's going to tell them that you're shagging and offer to be the bait in a trap for you. We spring it and blow them to hell." Ron shrugged. "Checkmate."  
  
Harry's eyes hadn't come off of Draco. "No."  
  
"I understand you're worried, Harry, but at least we'll know that Voldemort will be there," said Hermione gently. "We've destroyed all the Horcruxes, but if we let him make all the moves... his people will keep picking ours off, and by the time he catches up to us there won't be enough of us left to back you up."  
  
"No," Harry shook his head, obstinate. "There's got to be another way to find him."  
  
"There isn't, Potter," Draco said.  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes, took hold of Draco's arm just above his elbow and tugged. "We need to talk."  
  
Draco yanked his arm out of Harry's grip. "Bollocks. This will work and you know it. You're ready. You'll have the whole bloody Order at your back. It's as good a chance as you'll ever get."  
  
"I'm not risking you like that, damn it," Harry fairly shouted. "It's fucking stupid. Suicidal, even. We'll find some other way."  
  
Rising from her seat, Hermione exchanged a look with Draco before tapping Ron on the shoulder. "We're... um. Going to the kitchen."  
  
Barely acknowledging Hermione's look, Draco didn't wait for them to leave the room. "Yeah? How's this worse from running back and forth like I do now?"  
  
"Because you'll be on the wrong side of the fight, faking or not." Harry said, still glowering as the door quietly shut leaving them alone in the room. "It's different, alright?"  
  
Draco suddenly uncrossed his arms and unbuttoned his left cuff as he spoke. "How's it different, hmm?" With a violent jerk, he pulled up his sleeve to expose his Dark Mark and thrust it in Harry's direction. "How is it more dangerous than this?"  
  
Biting the inside of his lip, Harry set his jaw and looked away.  
  
"Look, they'll think I'm faking for your benefit, they won't really hurt me, and when it comes to it, they'll let me go and then I'll slink off and start taking them down one at a time where I can't be caught instead of fighting Order like I should."  
  
Harry still didn't say word. Draco tilted his head, this tone softening very slightly. "Potter?"  
  
"I don't like it."  
  
###  
  
Harry hadn't necessarily nixed the plan yet; merely put it on hold for the night while he thought about it. Sometime in the wee hours, however, Draco nudged him, palm to his face, elbow resting on Harry's chest, foot still curled possessively around Harry's shins.  
  
"Potter. Wake up." Draco slid his bare leg higher up Harry's thigh as he placed a kiss on his jaw. "Potter, this is serious. Wake up." Harry muttered and shifted, seeking out Draco's hip in his sleep, fingers caressing reflexively.  
  
"Mmmph, wh--" Harry managed before stopping with a gentle snore.  
  
Exasperated, Draco slapped his cheek. "Harry, look at me. I know how to make this work."  
  
Blinking confusedly and rubbing his face, Harry came a little further awake, tightening his grip on Draco. His voice was still slow and heavy with sleep as he mumbled, "Make what work?"  
  
"This plan," said Draco, staring at Harry's face, as if memorizing it. "I-- know how you could be sure of finding me."  
  
That last part brought Harry around for the most part. "How?"  
  
"There's-- a whole subcategory of Bonding Spells that wizards have used for millennia to tie one family to another... one _person_ to another..." Draco's mouth went dry at what he was suggesting, but he wasn't about to back down now. "They're almost all permanent --the best ones are-- so you'd have to be damn sure."  
  
Harry stared at him for a long moment. "...A Bonding Spell."  
  
"With the kind I had in mind, you'd be able to track me through it-- some create a weak sort of a live link. I'd wager I could find it easily at the Manor library." Draco was already thinking ahead-- the problem here was that he was thinking _too_ far ahead, and he was fairly certain that he didn't have that sort of a luxury. "It's extreme, though. I told you it's p--"  
  
"Let's do it," said Harry, tone full of finality as he pushed up on one elbow, though his eyes were too expressive to not give away his own anxiety. "...Even if you don't do this. And I still say you shouldn't."  
  
It was Draco's turn to blink as one of Harry's hands threaded through his hair. He leaned into the touch with a small sound that was almost a sigh. "You and your sweeping, sodding _gestures_. What makes you think I'd want to be permanently attached to a prat like you?"  
  
"Was your idea," grinned Harry.  
  
"Well, yeah, but that's only to keep from dying a miserable death," Draco smirked, crawling up to straddle Harry properly, tugging the covers up again before planting his elbows in the pillows on either side of Harry's head.  
  
"Liar," growled Harry, shifting to slide his hands around the curve of Draco's arse. "You can't get enough of me."  
  
Draco dropped his head to nip at Harry's throat. "Pfft. I can't stand you. Never have been able to."  
  
Arms coming up and around Draco's back, Harry tugged his body flush against his own, planting a warm hand between his shoulder blades. His voice was low and serious. "I'm not kidding. I want to."  
  
"Fine." Draco paused long enough to tighten his arms around Harry's neck, the side of his face pressed to Harry's. He shut his eyes with a sigh that was meant to sound more put out and displeased than it was, as if it hadn't been his idea to begin with, and murmured, "Idiot."  
  
###  
  
Standing in front of a dusty bookcase in the library at Malfoy Manor, now deserted for the most part, Draco pored through the one book he was sure had what he needed. There were at least five more on this shelf that had details or references to various Bonding Spells, Handfasting Charms, Bindings, spells that literally, physically joined people at the hip (nasty hexes, those), but this was the one he was sure.  
  
Being the pessimist that life had taught him to be, he'd had this spell in mind from the moment he set foot in the library.  
  
This was the one with the Inheritor clause.  
  
###  
  
Hermione observed her handiwork - a chalk circle roughly three feet in diameter and inscribed with a series of arcane symbols - candles at five points around it, and a variety of small bowls and phials at more irregular intervals around that. She consulted the book once again (which she'd read cover to cover in the space of two days once Malfoy had given it to her) and when she was satisfied that not a speck was out of place, she cast a fixative spell over it to make sure it stayed that way for the time being.  
  
She was the only other person with whom they'd shared this part of the plan. Rightfully, in her opinion, given that they could trust her to understand the spell and perform the necessary third party role correctly. Honestly, she thought it was a terrible idea, but then, she'd thought Harry's entire relationship with Malfoy was, too.  
  
It is a quantifiable fact that during wars, people tend to rush into each others' arms; something about life affirmation in the midst of so much death and loss, she supposed. Hermione couldn't blame Harry for wanting to be close to someone; she could even understand the attachment to the one person he felt he'd actually, truly saved from Voldemort's service (whether that was true or not). Understandable, too, she supposed, given that it made so much sense on the heels of six years of unhealthy obsession on both their parts... but this... it was all too weird.  
  
Still --and it killed her to be so cold, really it did-- Harry's romantic entanglements were secondary to the mission. And if this is what it took to get Harry to go through with their best plan for ridding the world of Voldemort, then so be it.  
  
If Malfoy thought he was going to pull one over on _her_ , though, he had another thing coming.  
  
Hermione slipped the aged ribbon between the pages in question, walked to the door that led from the master bedroom to the master bath and poked her head in. Harry and Malfoy were apparently done with preparations and were sitting on the edge of the tub, wrapped in white linen robes and speaking in a low murmur.  
  
"It's all ready. But I need to speak to you first, Malfoy. If you please."  
  
She stood back from the door as Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look. Then Malfoy stood and walked into the room, and Hermione shut the door behind him before beginning to speak almost under her breath so that Harry wouldn't hear.  
  
"Mind telling me whether you've told Harry about this incidental bit of magic?" said Hermione as she cracked the book open and pointed to the passage in question.  
  
A familiar shade of dread passed over Malfoy's sharp features as he said, "I haven't."  
  
"I knew it!" she said loudly, slamming the book shut and setting her fists on her hips before dropping her voice again. "You're banking on the fact that he'll die, and you'll cash in on all his power! You make me sick!" She turned to stomp away. "I'm telling Harry. If he still wants to go through with it, I can't stop him, but--"  
  
"Granger," said Draco quietly. "It's not for me."  
  
Hermione stopped in her tracks, eyeing the hand that had landed on her arm, following the clean lines of the white robe back to Draco. His face was absolutely earnest, the look in his eyes for once unguarded without a hint of insolence or derision, and it was frightening. "...What?"  
  
"It's for Potter." Draco took a shaky breath before lifting his chin. "I don't... I don't think for one second that I'm walking away from this. I'd like to, yes. Love to, actually, as I'm really not the altruistic martyr type, and there's no way that memorial statuary will do me any justice. And I've got a date with Potter and the Caribbean that I'd really, _really_ like to keep. But the Dark Lord isn't known for loyalty to his subjects. I'm expendable once he's got Potter in his sights, and if he thinks it'd get to Potter to hurt me..." Draco shrugged. "He'll do it. So if he does... this just gives Potter everything I have; all the magic I have. It'll give him an edge." Releasing her arm, Draco rubbed his hands together suddenly as if he were cold. "And you know as well as I do if I tell him, he'll go on and refuse on the grounds of 'thinking negatively' or some such bollocks. And this needs to end."  
  
Hermione stared.  
  
"I don't want to die, Granger, I swear. But it might happen," Draco cracked a weak, if more familiar smirk. "And how better to make sure I'm avenged, hmm?"  
  
"I--" Hermione huffed a small laugh as she dropped a hand on Draco's chest, her head pounding with the possibility of reconsidering her opinions of him. "I see." Patting him as she took an unsteady breath of her own, Hermione nodded and said something she never thought she'd say. "For the record, I hope you don't die, either."  
  
"For God's sake, witch, don't give me the adoring eyes. Think of your Weasley," said Draco with almost a smile. He took her hand and squeezed it, then tossed it away negligently as he cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom door. "Go get Harry. Let's get on with this."  
  
###  
  
Not three days later, Draco stopped in his tracks as he walked down a side street off of the overly-quiet Diagon Alley, pressing the heel of his hand against his brow. He cast a quick glance up and down the street and ducked into the space between the nearest buildings before turning to address the empty area behind him. He cast an Imperturbable and dropped his hand to his hip.  
  
"I know you're there. You may as well come out from under your little toy."  
  
A muttered swear sounded from not five feet away as Harry's head and hands appeared out of thin air, followed quickly by the rest of him, rumpled sweatshirt and messy-haired as usual. Draco should have been disgusted, and yet all he could think of doing was trying to thread his fingers through Harry's inky black and utterly poor excuse for hair.  
  
"How, Malfoy? How'd you know?"  
  
Shaking it off, Draco fixed Harry with look of utter ridicule. "Your cheap soap. And your clumsy, sodding feet. And the fact that a convenient path of empty space was following me unfailingly. The hell are you doing here?"  
  
"I--" Harry looked abashed and yet he took a step closer. "Thought you could use someone to watch your back."  
  
Draco threw his hands up, though they itched and burned to take hold of his ratty sweatshirt, fighting the impulse to step up and meet him mid-stride. "I'm a _Death Eater_ , Potter. I can take care of myself."  
  
"Regardless--"  
  
"You could be _seen_. _I_ could be seen." He inched forward. "How is that looking out?"  
  
"Well yeah, _now_ that I'm visible," muttered Harry, a portion of his body from his stomach and side down to the ground disconcertingly transparent thanks to the cloak draped over his forearm. "Fine," he said, grumbling as he slipped it around his shoulders again. "Just... don't do anything stupid, alright?"  
  
Draco fixed Harry with a withering stare that degenerated into an eye roll as he reached out and grabbed at the clasp. In one swift, smooth move, he pulled it up and stepped under it, ending flush with Harry under the oddly transparent cloak with an irritated snort. "Like this?"  
  
Using the need to hold the cloak shut as a convenient excuse, Harry draped one arm up and over Draco's shoulder and immediately leaned in, not bothering to answer with anything other than a hard kiss that went on and on, a mess of lips and tongues, reassurance and unvoiced fears.  
  
Eyes shut as he finally pulled away, Draco murmured, "Spare me the dramatics, Potter. This'll be over soon."  
  
"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry sighed as he nuzzled Draco's neck. "I'm not dramatic."  
  
With a ghost of a sardonic smile, Draco grumbled, "I told you, _later_. We've been over this."  
  
"You'd better be right," Harry grumbled right back, tightening his grip. "Every last one of you that planned this out and agreed to this before even telling me had better fucking be right."  
  
"Don't try and make me say something hopeful and uplifting. I'm terrible at it. I hate things I'm terrible at."  
  
"You must hate a lot." The smile was evident in Harry's answer.  
  
"...such a simpleton." Draco slid his hand up the side of Harry's neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer to drop a quick kiss to his temple. "Go."  
  
Draco stopped mid-motion and stepped in again, murmuring, low; ostensibly a warning, though the look in his eyes was more a plea than anything. As such, he forced himself to look away. "Don't fuck this up."  
  
With that, Draco stepped out of the cloak, still feeling the lingering heat of Harry's hands on his skin. He stood staring at the spot that after a _pop_ was truly empty and then took down his half-hearted Imperturbable and waited.  
  
The screechy voice was pitched low and dangerous as a third figure emerged from the shadows, a lock of dark hair falling forward out of a deep hood. "How sweet."  
  
Willing into existence the requisite amount of hauteur, Draco sneered, "It's disgusting really, how desperate Potter is for attention. You see it won't be difficult." Any memories that might betray him were already shoved deep into the recesses of his protected mind. Only surface memories they had agreed on had been left behind to be molested by the filthy tendrils of Bellatrix' Legilimency.  
  
The line of her pale, aquiline nose, sallow cheek and the wicked twist of her lip emerged into view as she drew the hood of her cloak back just enough to meet his eyes. "Well done, nephew." She reached a bony hand out to ruffle his hair in a parody of fondness, and Draco swallowed and puffed his chest out, for the most part having left the revulsion and fear behind with the thoughts of what might happen if this plan failed.  
  
"Come. It's time for your _tragic abduction_ ," she said, looping her arm through his elbow companionably. "How long do you suppose your _hero_ will wait before he comes to deliver you from our clutches, hmm?"  
  
"Not long, one would hope," Draco said, lip twitching as he patted her hand and followed her lead down the alley. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."  
  
The fewer outright lies one tells, after all, the easier to Occlude.  
  
###  
  
In a large, darkened chamber, Bellatrix hoisted Draco up onto his toes against a damp, stone wall by hands bound magically high above his head, and his eyes went a little wider.  
  
"Aunt Bella, you do realize I'm only _playing_ the bait, right?" Draco licked his lips, doing his best not to look nervous, passing the shivering off as the natural reaction of his shirtless body in the chill.  
  
Bellatrix pulled a wicked smirk that bore an uncanny resemblance to Draco's as she dragged a sharp nail down his sternum. "I know, pet." The wand in her hand suddenly became a wicked flail and she leaned up to kiss his cheek, ruffling his hair once again. "But we have to make it look as real as we can, don't we?"  
  
###  
  
Crumpled parchment from the demand owl in hand, Harry ran down the stairs at Headquarters, directly into a sitting room full of Order members obviously on edge and ready to move.  
  
"I know where we're going."  
  
He flinched slightly and sucked in a breath, looking up only to lock eyes with Hermione, who started immediately forward, brow furrowed. "And we have to go _now_."  
  
###  
  
Draco hadn't been lying even to himself about Things (read: the War) needing to end. Certainly at first it had been about saving his own skin and hopefully saving his mother's in the process. He hadn't even considered the possibility of not killing Potter himself, much less becoming as _attached_ to the git as he had.  
  
_Attached_ was a good word for it. Draco was loathe to use words that suggested hearts and flowers. Nothing about them was hearts and flowers; nothing ever had been. There were moments, oddly enough, that he could look at the speccy half-blood scarhead bastard and be overwhelmed with... attachment; mostly in the quiet of the dead of night where there were no other witnesses and he'd therefore never have to admit it in public. But nothing was cute about it, damn it all.  
  
He was not in love with Harry Sodding Potter. Sliced-open right hand (projecting) to equally-slashed left (receiving) in a circle of two and kneeling in Granger's circle while their blood and magic swirled and mixed and resettled in one another, he may have said otherwise. But he didn't have to admit that to anyone, either.  
  
He was also no martyr. And yet here he was relying on his _attachment_ to Potter to anchor him through his aunt's efforts at making this farce "look real". He bit his lip as she flicked her wand and he suddenly found himself facing the wall, raw welts across his torso and arms stinging as they made contact with the... ugh, _filthy_ wall. Assuming that he'd need a bath in disinfectant if he made it out alive, he gave up and let his cheek rest against the dank stone, letting the enchantments hold him up as his (fucking batshit mad) aunt ran her hands up his back.  
  
"Look at the pretty, pretty skin... and yet I don't see nail marks, pet... tell me does that mean you let Potter bugger you stupid?" she purred obscenely, leaning in to breathe into his ear. "If I look under your fingernails, will I find his skin? Or can he not stand to look at you when he fucks you? I almost can't."  
  
Draco flinched as she pulled away, and yet he still managed to sneer. "I wish you wouldn't; honestly, Aunt Bella, you've a very bad t--ouch."  
  
This had been such a very bad idea.  
  
###  
  
Harry took no pleasure in the guerilla warfare tactics that were so well suited to Justin, Ginny and Pansy. As they crept into the assigned location ahead of Harry, he could only hope they were doing their job in dispatching what stragglers they found - he didn't want to think about how.  
  
The main force was hanging back for the time being. Obviously the owl had instructed him to come alone, and just as obviously, they expected him not to, but there was no sense in giving that away right off. Hermione whispered from his right, "Is he here?"  
  
Harry murmured, "Both of them."  
  
"Say the word, mate," Ron murmured from his left.  
  
Nodding, Harry pulled himself up. "Let's go."  
  
###  
  
Justin, Ginny and Pansy had taken out the sentries and the wards, though Harry had no illusion about whether Voldemort knew he was coming. It was more that he didn't care. Wand tight in his hand, he focused on Draco and found that if he followed, he was also following the call of his scar.  
  
So be it. They came through the back doors of the run-down chateau, Kingsley, Bill and Hestia just ahead of him, Ron and Hermione at his sides and everyone else behind. Through the pantry and kitchens, foraying into the wide main floor corridors before anyone still breathing decided to take a shot.  
  
It was then that all hell broke loose.  
  
###  
  
"Downstairs!" Harry called out, shouting to be heard over the noise of explosions and curses. Suddenly jerked nearly off of his feet, he wheeled around only to realize that it was Ron that had yanked him out of the way of a falling bit of masonry.  
  
Kingsley blasted the cellar doors open and stood guard as the group backed toward it, and Harry's scar flared up, a vivid splash of color obscuring his vision for a brief moment. Hestia charged forward into the stairwell, followed by Bill. Ginny vaulted the staircase railing above and landed lightly on her feet, grabbing Harry by the elbow and dragging him into the stairwell with her. "Got to go, Harry. Upstairs is clear."  
  
"Ron and Hermione--" protested Harry just as a second hand grabbed the back of his shirt.  
  
"Right here, mate," said Ron.  
  
Hermione added, "Don't look back."  
  
Harry could hear the sounds of more people in the stairway, but he couldn't see who, and could only assume from Hermione's comment that there were fewer than there had been when they entered the house.  
  
The door slammed shut behind them and Harry shouted up the staircase, "Lock it. Ward it. No one's sneaking up on us." A little more quietly, he added, "Hes-- light."  
  
Harry heard Hestia murmur one of the myriad variations on the standard _Lumos_ spell that sent little spheres of light careening down the remaining stairs and into what sounded like a large room by the glassy echoes of bouncing lights.  
  
A horribly familiar voice hissed, "Welcome, Harry. I believe I have something of yours."  
  
Squaring his shoulders, Harry took a further step down the staircase and the group moved with him. "Good," Harry said as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, "because of all the things you've taken, I'm taking this one back."  
  
###  
  
It started at the mark on his left palm. Hermione was the best they had at Healing and had sealed the cuts on his hands from the Bonding Spell as soon after as she could, but Harry had asked her to leave the marks. They were faint, but he knew they were there.  
  
Except now, in the middle of what could only be described as an epic battle with the man... the _Thing_ that had been trying to kill him for well over nineteen years now, there was no reason for it to begin to itch and sting. There _should_ be no reason for it. He knew rather than saw that those around him were pitched in battles as intense as his own, most keeping the majority of remaining Death Eaters at bay while he took out Voldemort (right-- any second now).  
  
Someone slammed into Harry, though the body was limp and he had no time to see if he recognized the face as he tucked and rolled away, back on his feet and casting before more than half a second had passed. It wasn't until then that the blonde hair and pale skin registered, as did the fact that the hit had twinged more than it should have.  
  
He couldn't do more than cast a glance in Draco's direction, but it was enough to see that his hands were bound, and yet he was struggling to get to his feet; visible skin covered in bruises and welts. Harry murmured his name as he shifted closer, his wand on Voldemort who was shouting something at Bellatrix-- something Harry could only make out later in retrospect. At the time, his head was filled only by a rush of blood as Bellatrix stepped out of the haze of curse fallout and rubble. She cast a Killing Curse that Harry moved to duck and deflect, only to realize it wasn't aimed at him.  
  
Draco was awash in a backflash of sickening green and there was nothing Harry could do but watch him fall again. This time he did not get up.  
  
The fury that filled Harry was indescribable, and everything that happened next ran into what seemed like one artlessly complicated motion that somehow fit between one breath and the next. He turned his wand on Bellatrix, who was already falling forward with an expression of supreme shock at the sharp metal edge protruding through her chest. As her body fell forward, it revealed a filth-smeared Neville behind her, holding the bloody blade and looking just as shocked, if possible.  
  
There was no pause between movements as Harry turned back to face Voldemort, teeth bared in a snarl as his left hand flared again. He could feel power suffusing him and while he attributed it to... to what had just happened; to Draco, who he couldn't think about right now. Aiming his spell directly at Voldemort's laughing face, Harry cast a Killing Curse that had to have been more powerful than any ever unleashed.  
  
Voldemort countered him but when the spells met there was no reactive block. The jet of light from Harry's wand subsumed that from Voldemort's, crashing into and over him, apparently charring him on contact. A shockwave of energy radiated from the body and faceless combatants fell screaming. Harry could only assume they were Death Eaters, but he honestly didn't care as he stalked forward single-mindedly to where Voldemort had fallen. Landing two hard stomping kicks to Voldemort's distorted face, Harry found that the crunch of unresisting bone was unsatisfactory, and so he kept kicking, stomping through unintelligible snarling and screaming. He only dimly heard Hermione shouting until she finally screeched, "God Damn it Harry, NOW."  
  
Uncomprehending, Harry looked up and saw that Hermione had the medical bag she unfailingly carried shrunken in her pocket enlarged and spread open next to Draco's unresisting form. Her hands were laced over his chest palms down and she was delivering compressions just as Harry had seen on Dudley's telly, counting aloud and pausing only to hold his nose and breathe into his mouth. He couldn't fathom what she thought she was doing as his feet pulled him closer, but then again, he couldn't fathom referring to Draco just yet as 'Draco's body' either.  
  
Head in a green-tinged fog, Harry was cold and numb and he couldn't fathom a lot of things: Voldemort dead, that they'd won, that there were Order members left subduing and Stupefying the dazed remaining Death Eaters. Nothing really mattered in the face of what could only be _the body_ at hand as he stared blankly and murmured something that might have been, "What are you doing?"  
  
Looking up with a fierce glimmer in her eye, she reached out and grabbed hold of his right hand, producing a shard from seemingly nowhere and slicing his palm open. She pulled Harry roughly downward, causing him to land hard on his knees as she slashed a matching mark against Draco's chest, just over his heart, and pressed Harry's right hand against it. "Give me the other hand, dolt!" she shouted, not waiting as she took it and set it on top of his right. "Firm compressions. Regular intervals. When I tell you to stop, stop. When I tell you to get back, get back."  
  
Hermione began to murmur what Harry recognized as bits from the Bonding Spell, interspersed with what sounded like Healing spells, then growling, "Stop," as she stabbed a syringe directly into his chest, emptied it, then leaned in to breathe into Draco's mouth again. Several short breaths later, she shouted, "Go!" as she dug in the contents of the bag again.  
  
It was too surreal, but Harry did as he was told, too numb to do otherwise. Hermione pulled some sort of box he didn't even really see from her Bottomless Bag, not that he would have recognized it anyway. Peripherally, he saw her fussing with it, pulling what looked like small air hockey paddles free, though they remained connected by what looked like curly telephone wire.  
  
"Get back!" She shouted, shoving him away. Holding them down against Draco's chest, she used her knee to bump the box and suddenly there was a ' _crack_ ' and Draco's torso was bouncing up under the force of the shock. "Go, Harry. Keep going!"  
  
Harry blinked and resumed compressions as she fussed with the box again, only this time, he knew exactly what she was doing. "You can't use magic to revive the dead, Hermione!"  
  
"This isn't magic, Harry." She paused and looked at Harry for just a moment, panting and clearly considering him though a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. "Alright. _This_ might be. Sorry."  
  
With that, she applied the paddles without telling Harry to get back and as the shock ran through Draco, it ran through Harry too; he could hear Hermione murmuring, but he couldn't tell if it was a memory of the Bonding Spell or actuality. Either way, magic sparked and crackled between his hand and Draco's chest, and Draco sucked in a hard, surprised gasp, followed by a weak cough as Harry fell back hard onto the stone floor.  
  
Pointing a paddle at Harry as he immediately sprang back to lift Draco's shoulders up and pillow his head on Harry's folded knees, Hermione said, "That. Was _medical science_." She dropped the paddles and sat back on her heels. "With maybe a little bit of magic thrown in."  
  
Ron stared and breathed, "Wow," and Harry suddenly realized that there were more people standing around them - a fact he'd entirely blocked out until now.  
  
"Holy hell, Hermione," said Ginny, equally shocked, her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "That-- wow. How?"  
  
"I... promised myself that I'd study advanced hybrid Healing if I made it through this whole... mess," she leaned further back against Ginny's shins and closed her eyes. "So I started studying ahead and formulating some basic theories based on what I could learn on my own. I had to adjust the paddles to run off of magic, though. I was afraid they wouldn't work. Errr..." Here, Hermione bit her lip and cracked one eye to look at Harry. "...And shocking Harry's beating heart might've stopped _it_ , but I thought he wouldn't mind my taking the risk, given the magic and... everything else."  
  
Harry looked up, mildly alarmed at that last part, but his eyes snapped back to Draco without comment.  
  
Still gaping, Ron blinked. "So-- Malfoy's not an inferi, right? 'Cos, that'd be creepy."  
  
" _No_ , Ronald. He should be just fine... I hope. He's the first case of his kind after all."  
  
From where Harry sat, one hand covering his mouth, the other in Draco's hair, eyes riveted on his chest and watching him breathe, however labored. "Christ, Hermione. This... we knew you were brilliant, but this..."  
  
"I know. And, oh God-- think of the research." Hermione shut her eyes again. "After I sleep for about ten days. Uninterrupted."  
  
"I'll fund it all," rasped Draco, eyes still shut. His fingers wiggled weakly, hand coming off of the ground only to thump down hard again. "Anything you want, Granger."  
  
Hermione was immediately up on her feet. "We've definitely got to get him to St. Mungo's."  
  
###  
  
The warm Caribbean sun beat down pleasantly on Harry's bare and sun-blocked chest and back, ceasing for the most part as he walked up to the hammock set up in the perfectly patchy shade of the two strong palm trees to which it was attached. His toes squished in the almost too-hot sand as he held two frozen drinks in a shade of yellow not occurring in nature and decorated with paper umbrellas-- one with extra cherries.  
  
"Oi. Budge over, lump," he grinned as he poked at the blond in the hammock, currently stretched out on his side and making a good show of pretending to be asleep.  
  
"Mmmph. Can't. Convalescing," murmured Draco, holding up a hand. "But I'll take that, thank you."  
  
"Not so fast," said Harry as he tugged the edge of the hammock and settled in it, ignoring Draco's half-hearted protest as he rolled toward Harry's weight, stopping with a huff of laughter.  
  
"Menace. I deserve an uninterrupted nap after the dying and all." Now on his back, Draco grinned and held his hand up in front of his eyes to block an errant ray of sunlight filtering through the palm fronds. "And the drink. Give _it_ over, too."  
  
Harry handed over the drink and settled back in the hammock, arm automatically winding around Draco's shoulders as he took a sip from his own glass. "Gah," he sighed, as Draco curled closer. "That's it. We're staying here."  
  
Utterly pleased with himself, Draco downed half of his drink in one large sip and sighed. "Brilliant. No more minioning, spying, killing, Occluding, dying or bloody well saving the world. Just another one hundred thirty years or so of this."  
  
Harry choked on his drink as the reality of what Draco had said sunk in, the awkward silence coming from his direction spelling out the fact that Draco was thinking it too. "That's... um. A really long time."  
  
"...That spell really is permanent, you know," Draco murmured, clearing his throat. "Hermione double-checked. Not even my untimely passing changed that."  
  
"That's... yeah. I mean, I figured, 'cos I can still find you wherever you are." Harry swallowed hard. "You, um. Asked her to look it up?"  
  
"I did," said Draco, taking another drink and dropping the almost-empty glass over the side of the hammock so he could wrap his arms around Harry a little better. "Was wondering whether we'd have to do it again."  
  
"Oh," breathed Harry, ditching his own glass without a second thought and turning toward Draco. He was quiet for a long moment before he murmured, "Hey. Since when is Hermione not 'Granger'?"  
  
Harry could feel Draco grinning against his skin. "It seemed a fitting reward. One that I'm revoking if she doesn't stop asking me to come back for 'tests'."  
  
"I told you, we're not going back," said Harry, his lips now pressed to Draco's temple.  
  
"Excellent," said Draco, his voice a sleepy, pleased murmur. "You answer her next owl."


End file.
